Time passes. Cade calls and asks the same questions. Another in-person visit with Cassie comes and goes. This time, I don’t see Dr. Jeff. Cassie draws blood, we talk about Terry’s Covid kids’ book and we’re done. I’ll get a message to fill out my app once a week (month?).. I can’t remember that part). And we will meet again in six months.
They haven’t been told how much Moderna intends to share with us. So I write to my primary care doc. Katie sends me a scrip to get the antibody test at Quest Diagnostics. “Don’t forget to do that cholesterol thing, too,” she reminds me.
It almost feels like there was never any test. Pandemic existence marches forward. Thousands become infected and hundreds die every twenty four hours. Now most us mask. We went to Shelby and Casey’s last night, masked and distanced, with brief reveals for dinner and beverages. Twenty people showed up to symbolically buddy-walk with us in support of people with Down syndrome. All but a few wore masks. Some of us got closer than we probably should have.
What most people desperately want these days is a hug.
The horrors of the political season continue to manifest. May our better natures rebuke the darkness in Washington on Election Day with such stunning clarity that there can be no question of what we stand for.
The October pollen is in the air. I can taste it’s burn between sneezes. It’s a relief to know what it is and what the symptoms mean. Every time we cough, we worry.
But not for long. “Never let anyone or anything deter you from your life’s purpose.” Those are among the last words my dad and I shared on April 17, 2018, the day before he died. He reminded me that battle scars can give us wisdom. We only lose if we let travail stop us from doing good things.
The most important good thing that Colleen and I will do this year is coming up. Early voting begins in Jacksonville this week.